Howard nodded.
"I feel as if I could pitch all this"—Stafford looked at the surrounding luxuries—"out of the window! I don't understand him. Great Heaven! he makes me feel the most selfish, pampered wretch on the face of the earth. He's—he's—"
"He is a man!" said Howard, with an earnestness which was strange in him.
"You are right," said Stafford. "There never was such a father. And yet—yet—I don't understand him. He is such a mixture. How such a man could talk as he did—no I don't understand it."
"I do," said Howard.
But then Sir Stephen had given him the key to the enigma.
CHAPTER VII
Stafford slept well, and was awake before Measom came to call him. It was a warm and lovely morning, and Stafford's first thoughts flew to a bath. He got into flannels, and found his way to the lake, and as he expected, there was an elaborate and picturesque bathing-shed beside the Swiss-looking boat-house, in which were an electric launch and boats of all descriptions. There also was a boatman in attendance, with huge towels on his arm.
"Did you expect me?" asked Stafford, as the man touched his hat and opened the bathing-shed.
"Yes, sir; Sir Stephen sent down last night to say that you might come down."